Starting Over
by Wench77
Summary: It took Ron and Hermione three attempts to finally break up, and Hermione years to notice who had been there all along.
1. Chapter 1

The first time Ron and Hermione broke up, it barely lasted twelve hours.

It was the usual fight – she called him to say she was caught up in urgent work at the Ministry and wouldn't make it to dinner at the Burrow, he'd tried to guilt trip her into going. Maybe she was just having a worse-than-usual day, or maybe the burden of the forty previous conversations they'd had on the same topic was weighing on her and this time was just what tipped her over the edge, but Hermione found herself screaming "Well why don't you find yourself a nice little house-wife then, because I'm certainly not going to hold you back!" before cutting off their communication spell and wiping angry tears from her eyes.

Three hours later, she'd finished redrafting her report and found herself at a loose end. She couldn't go back to her small Bayswater flat yet – there was always a chance Ron would check in and accuse her of lying about work to get out of a family dinner, as if he didn't know that she loved the Weasleys as much her own relatives – and everybody else she knew would probably be at the Burrow.

In her mind she checked off her options. Harry was out, obviously. He was caught in the middle when things were tense between her and Ron as it was – factor in his increasingly serious relationship with Ginny and the fact that the two of them were almost certainly going to dinner tonight and you had a best friend who was utterly useless as a sounding board for relationship troubles. On top of that, her best female friend was her boyfriend's only sister, her actual mother was on the other side of the world with no memory of her existence and her maternal stand-in was Ron's mum and hosting the bloody dinner in the first place.

She didn't have the patience right now for Neville's concern or Luna's nonsensical conversation and she'd never been close to any of the other girls at Hogwarts. Dean and Seamus would be happy enough to see her, but utterly nonplussed if she started to unload about her emotional dramas, and basically every other friend she had was a Weasley. Bill, Fleur, Percy, Charlie… all of them would be huddled round the table in the Burrow's cramped kitchen.

George wouldn't be there, but George was very rarely anywhere these days. He haunted the flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, putting in obligatory appearances at his parents' home at Christmas and on birthdays but keeping himself to himself otherwise. Nobody admitted it, but most of them preferred it that way – it just felt wrong, seeing one of the twins without the other, and nobody could look at George's hollow face without thinking about Fred.

Molly still saw him, of course. Mrs Weasley was always the strongest of them all, and she wasn't about to lose another of her boys. Surprisingly, Percy was the other family member who had stepped up. He ran the joke shop now, taking the reins as his brother retreated from the world. He had no flair at all for creating new products, but he had a good head for business and he was able to keep things ticking over with the existing range.

Hermione helped him from time to time, working with replicating spells to produce more stock from the products the twins had invented. Her work took her to Diagon Alley frequently – digging out clandestine Death Eater activity was often about following the money and she found herself at Gringotts on a regular basis – and she always made a point of popping in. She and Percy had always had quite a bit in common, and even though seeing George this way caused a painful pang in her chest it didn't discomfort her to the same extent it did most of the others.

Nevertheless, George would not be in any fit state to provide the company she craved tonight, so Hermione found herself propping up the bar at the Leaky Cauldron shortly after leaving the Ministry. Things got a little hazy after switching from Butterbeer to Firewhiskey, and the last thing she remembered with any clarity was informing Tom that she needed "s'frendsh who aren't bloody Weazleesh!" before making her way unsteadily out of the bar and onto the cobbles.

The next morning Hermione awoke, head pounding and mouth paper dry, in her own bed. _At least I managed to Apparate without splinching myself_ , she though ruefully, conjuring herself a glass of water. A memory prickled at the back of her mind – a shock of red hair and long arms holding her close to a strong chest – but she pushed it to one side. Hardly surprising that she'd dreamt about Ron under the circumstances.

The water did a little to alleviate her hangover but nothing for her misery, and when Ron knocked sheepishly on her front door an hour or so later she let him in without a word.

In the corridor, George Weasley turned the corner towards Hermione's flat to see the familiar figure of his younger brother closing the door behind himself. Wordlessly, George slipped the hangover cure potion he and Fred had invented after the shop's opening party into his pocket and turned on his heel.

Their second breakup lasted almost three months.

It was quieter this time, less spur of the moment although there was still some shouting from Ron. Hermione came home from a work trip to Bulgaria to find Ron sulking in their flat – they'd moved in together despite her misgivings. He told her that she'd been away too long, and she told him as gently as she could that her career was always going to be important to her, and if that was going to be a problem for him then perhaps they would both be happier apart. Ron had protested at first, but when it became clear that she wasn't going to budge he'd pretended to understand, packed his bags and headed back to the Burrow.

The following weeks were lonely for Hermione. She saw Harry and Ginny regularly, but Ron's spectre was always there, the elephant in the room. It was similarly awkward with any of their other mutual friends from Hogwarts. She threw herself into her work and tried to join in with social events with others from the Ministry, but she was always going to be Hermione Granger, War Hero, to them and she found their awestruck simpering exhausting. She missed the warmth of the Burrow and the wider Weasley family, and the easy familiarity of time spent with others who had been through the war at her side.

The only place she found any real respite was at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. There was some comfort in reminding herself that she wasn't the only social leper of their little clan, and George's silences bothered her less and less. She'd noticed on previous visits that Percy seemed reluctant to leave his brother alone, and her extremely clear social calendar made it easy for her to volunteer her evenings and allow Percy some time to rekindle his relationship with Penelope Clearwater. Just because she had no personal life to speak of didn't mean everybody else had to go without.

Anyway, sitting in the flat above the shop with George beat sitting home alone even if he wasn't the liveliest of company. It was painful at times to look at the young man opposite her and remember the out-going boy she'd once known, but she appreciated that he didn't feel the need to put on a show for her. He tried his best for Molly and the wider family, even for Percy to an extent, but the two of them had reached a silent understanding. She let George mourn as much as he wanted and he never alluded to her relationship status at all. It was as comfortable as either of them were likely to get at that point.

She even saw some progress in him over the weeks. One night, when poring over the ledgers of some offshore accounts vaguely connected to the LeStranges was starting to cause her eyes to blur and her head to ache, Hermione decided to distract herself by trying to come up with some new products for the shop. Percy hadn't said much, but she could tell that he was worried about WWW . It had been over a year since Fred's death and demand for the twins' old jokes was drying up.

It was only April, but Hermione knew that it would take months to get any successful prototypes into production so she decided to set her sights on the festive season. She placed a sprig of mistletoe on the table and set about charming it to sing embarrassing rhymes about any couples who might kiss under it. At the other end of the table she noticed that George was looking at her intently, more engaged than she'd seen him in weeks.

She worked quietly under his gaze, only looking at him when the charm was almost done. "I've got the spell-work under control, but I might need some help coming up with the songs", she explained. For a split second she thought she saw a flash of the old George, but then he hesitated and shook his head.

"Alright," she said, putting the sprig to one side with a shrug. "We'll see whether Percy can come up with anything."

She pretended not to notice the curl of his lip at that, or the fact that the mistletoe was singing songs that would make Peeves blush on her next visit. She was quite sure that most of the words used had never entered Percy's vocabulary, but she and the older Weasley just exchanged small smiles behind Georges back as the plant yelled on.

Over the next few weeks Hermione thought she detected more and more of these moments of George-ness; the odd smile when he thought nobody was looking, some unfamiliar prototypes cropping up around the flat. She was less surprised than the others by sight of him looking marginally more comfortable amongst his friends and family at Harry and Ginny's engagement party a few weeks later.

She was nervous, returning to the Burrow as Ron's ex, but it was also a relief to find herself in the familiar, comfortable living room of the Weasley house. Harry and Ginny greeted her warmly but had plenty of well-wishers to see, and after a brief catch up with Hagrid and some of the Hogwarts professors Hermione found herself wedged into a corner with Neville, Percy and Penelope. George was with them with for a short while, but Lee Jordan made his way over to say a tentative hello, and George surprised them all by wandering off to the kitchen with his oldest friend. Hermione and Percy exchanged smiles – hopefully, the improvement they'd been seeing was the start of something bigger.

The evening passed amiably enough – Mrs Weasley was in her element as mother of the bride, far too busy clucking over the lovebirds to turn any cold stares on the woman who'd broken her youngest son's heart, and it was fun catching up with Neville. Eventually, though, he had to bid her a rueful goodbye and take his grandmother home, and Percy and Penelope had slipped off to some darkened corner of the garden together.

Hermione found herself alone and morose, a few too many drinks in, watching Harry and Ginny smile beatifically at one another. It was impossible not to consider her own loneliness, and the thought of walking out of the warmth and comfort of the Burrow and not seeing it again for months gnawed at her uncomfortably, so when Ron appeared at her side a little while later and held out his hand, she twined her fingers in his with a grateful sigh.

They talked late into the night, and she wasn't sure if she was imagining things when she glimpsed a frown on George's face as he said goodbye.

Their third break-up was the easiest and most civil by far, and also the saddest.

It came as Ron and Hermione sat side by side at the head table in the pavilion set up in the Burrow's garden for Harry and Ginny's wedding. They sat in silence, sipping at champagne while they watched the newlyweds twirl around the floor.

Abruptly, Ron finished his drink and turned to Hermione.

"They're so happy." He stated simply, gesturing towards the couple with his empty glass. Hermione just nodded, not meeting his eyes.

He continued, quieter now, "We… We're not, are we? Not like them."

This time Hermione looked at him as she shook her head, not quite trusting her voice. He was right, and she'd tried to tell him months ago, but at the same time she'd miss him more than she could possibly say. She met his eyes and saw everything she was feeling mirrored there.

He stood as more couples filtered onto the dance floor and extended a hand to her. Tears filled her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I will always love you, you know," she whispered. She heard Ron swallow as he nodded into her hair.

"Yeah, 'course," he replied. "Me too… After everything, Hermione, things just wouldn't be the same without you around, y'know?"

She pulled back to look at him, smiling though her tears.

"I'll always be here – or I will in a while, at least. It'll be hard at first but you're right. After everything the two of have been through, it'd take a lot more than this to tear us apart."

He gave her a sad smile in return and hugged her to him for the rest of the song. As the music faded they stepped apart for what Hermione knew would be the last time in a long while. She meant what she said – she and Ron were going to be part of each other's lives until the day they died – but he was her first love, and she his. Things were going to take time to get back to normal.

"I think I'm going to wish the newlyweds well once last time and make a quiet exit," she told him. "Not really in the mood for a party."

He nodded in understanding. "Yeah, me neither. But I guess I'm staying here tonight, so I'll have to stick around. I'll come by tomorrow to pick up my stuff if that's ok?" She nodded.

"Alright – I'll pop in about midday. It's ok if you don't want to be there. I'll tell mum in the morning too and... see you around, I guess?"

She nodded again. She knew in her heart that they were making the right decision, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt and the finality of his words combined with the happiness of the couples dancing around them was knocking the wind out of her. She drew a breath and said the only thing left to say.

"Bye, Ron."

"Bye, 'Mione"

With that she went to give Harry and Ginny one more hug before beating a hasty retreat, tears beginning to spill as soon as she was out of sight of the laughing crowd. She ducked behind the hedge at the bottom of the garden as she began to sob in earnest, figuring the risk of a gnome attack was a worthwhile price to pay for privacy while she pulled herself together enough to Apparate home.

A larger-than-gnome-sized figure stirring beside her caused her to cry out in shock, and she found herself looking at the sympathetic face of George Weasley. Taking in her tear-stained features, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You and Ron?"

She nodded. "Fo- for good this time." She hiccupped, unable to stop crying now that she'd let rip. He gave her arm a gentle squeeze and then took both her hands in his.

"Right," he said, gently but firmly. "Side-along back to the shop it is. Misery loves company, there's a stash of Firewhiskey at the back of the kitchen and the last place you need to be tonight is the flat the two of you shared."

He whisked them away from the garden before she could object, not that she was certain she was going to.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione was a mess that night. There was relief buried somewhere underneath her sadness, but the sheer finality of her and Ron's goodbye was still painful, and that first night she let herself wallow in the pain.

George was unbelievably patient, digging out the promised Firewhiskey, handing over tissue after tissue as she smeared her bridesmaid's makeup everywhere, chatting with her sympathetically during her more lucid periods and placing a quiet arm around her shoulders whenever she dissolved into incoherent sobs again.

Eventually she cried herself into an exhausted sleep on his sofa, and that's where she awoke late the next morning as the bright August sunshine streamed over her face. Grimacing, she pulled herself into a sitting position, shrugging off the old woollen blanket George must've draped over her when she passed out to survey the rumpled wreckage of her green satin dress.

Her first thought was to berate herself. How utterly mortifying, to have let herself fall apart so dramatically, over a man she knew she shouldn't be with and who she was completely positive she'd find a way to be friends with again in future! And to have that breakdown in front of that same man's brother, no less!?

Not just any brother, either. Merlin – after everything George had been through, to have him fussing over her like some great tragedy had befallen her. _Of all the melodramatic, insensitive, idiotic things to do Granger, you had t-_. A sudden realisation brought her train of thought to an abrupt halt.

Yes, she had gone into total meltdown on George Weasley's couch last night, and yes that was a little embarrassing. But it wasn't mortifying the way it would have been in front of the old George, the Fred-and-George George. She'd spent enough time in his company over the last eighteen months , seen enough of his all-consuming grief, that getting worked up about him seeing her vulnerable just seemed a little silly.

And as for the guilt – well, now she thought about it, last night was the most engaged and normal George had seemed in a long time. Everybody had been walking on eggshells around him since his brother's death, watching him intently all the time for any sign of the pain they knew he must be feeling. Yesterday she'd been too wrapped up in her own feelings to do any of that, and it must have been a relief of sorts to George to have a break from the scrutiny. For the first time in well over a year he was able to be useful, leant on for support and not viewed as a victim. Maybe that was what he needed.

It was with these thoughts running through her mind that Hermione greeted George when he popped his head through the living room door a few minutes later. Buoyed by her theory that she might have actually helped him, she hardly felt shy at all. She did, however, feel a tad delicate.

"Morning," she said, a little sheepishly. "Thanks for letting me stay."

George must have caught her wince, because he wandered through the room to the small kitchenette and returned a moment later bearing a glass of water and a vial of a peculiar, sickly green liquid. Hermione examined it with narrow eyes. It was a force of long established habit to distrust any food or drink handed to her by a Weasley twin and this was more suspicious than most.

George smiled. "Won't turn you into a frog, Hermione. Hangover cure – works a treat."

Deciding she could probably trust him, Hermione opened the vial and downed the contents in one long swallow, before making a gagging noise and grabbing the water from him. George couldn't quite hide his smirk. "Works a treat, but tastes vile – we figured that there should be some repercussions for over-indulgence"

As the awful taste faded, Hermione realised in astonishment that her headache was already all but gone and her stomach had settled completely.

"That is really, really good stuff," she told him, shaking her head in wonder. "Why haven't you gone to market with it?"

George's smile faded abruptly as he mumbled something about how they were planning to before he got a bit distracted. Hermione realised that was her cue to change the topic and moved on swiftly.

"What time is it?" she asked, squinting at the bright blue sky outside the window in search of a clue. George glanced at his watch. "Quarter to eleven," he told her. "You were up pretty late – seemed best to let you sleep."

She hesitated. "I hate to impose – more than I already have - but would it be ok if I stuck around for a while? It's just that Ron was going to swing by the flat at midday to collect his stuff, and I'd prefer to be not-there. I'd head out into Diagon Alley but.." She made a sweeping gesture, taking in the crumpled bridesmaids dress, smudged makeup and the birds nest she knew full well had formed on her head overnight.

George's smile reappeared as he stood. "Absolutely – consider this your safe house," he told her. "Food?"

Hermione agreed enthusiastically, realising as he headed into the kitchen again that she was absolutely starving. He nodded. "That's the other side effect of the hangover potion," he told her over his shoulder, pulling out pots and pans. "Immediate and pressing need for unhealthy quantities of grease-soaked carbohydrates."

Hermione sprawled across the couch as he worked. _After all_ , she thought to herself happily, _I have to let him look after me. For his sake._

The next few weeks were hard, but after the last break Hermione was prepared for that. Walking back into her flat after a pleasant, quiet afternoon with George to find all traces of Ron gone was a bit of a punch to the gut, but she only shed a couple of tears before pulling herself together and heading for a much-needed shower. She wasn't sure whether she had any more crying left in her after the previous night.

She was resolved not to make the same mistakes as last time, so she actively worked to avoid isolating herself. She wasn't going to put either of them through the pain of another break-up, and that meant she couldn't allow herself to become so lonely that she reached out to Ron again. It was with this in mind that she made her way to Ginny and Harry's new flat the day after they returned from their honeymoon, braced for their reaction.

She found herself sat in their small, comfortable living room with a cup of tea in hand – it was obvious that Molly had contributed a lot to the interior design, as last Hermione had checked neither Ginny nor Harry were the sort to think about buying cushions. After the initial pleasantries were out of the way, Hermione set her cup down, a knot of nervousness burning in her stomach.

"So," she said quietly, eyes fixed on the coffee table. "I expect you've heard that Ron and I are no longer together?"

After a beat, Ginny spoke. "And it's for good this time?"

"One hundred per cent," Hermione responded, then looked up in surprise as Harry blurted "You promise!?" at the same time as Ginny breathed "Thank Merlin."

"You.. you're _glad_!?" she asked in confusion. Ginny grinned as Harry answered her.

"Look, we love you. And we love Ron. And it's been fairly obvious to both of us for quite a while that while you and Ron love each other, you don't make each other happy, and-"

"And I was about thirty seconds from staging a bloody intervention." Ginny jumped in. "One more family dinner with him sulking because you were late and you itching to get back to work and I was going to crack your heads together."

Hermione smiled in relief. She knew she and Ron had made the right choice, but it was still good to hear their closest friends confirm it. Elephant in the room addressed, she settled in properly to hear about their honeymoon. Touring the home grounds of the world's greatest Quidditch teams might not be her idea of the ultimate romantic trip, but each to their own.

It was a lot easier to keep her place in the group with Harry and Ginny on-side. Harry and Ron joined an amateur Quidditch team which practiced every Wednesday night, and that quickly became a standing dinner-and-drinks date for Hermione and Ginny. Occasionally they were joined by some of the others from Hogwarts, and after a bit of initial awkwardness Hermione made it clear that the mention of Ron's name wasn't going to send her screaming from the room and normal conversation resumed. Hermione saw Harry almost every weekend – the two of them made trips into muggle London, sometimes with Teddy Lupin in tow, giving his grandmother a well-earned break.

She worked hard, of course – it wasn't in her nature to do anything else, and her trips to WWW became more and more regular. Cautiously, she tested her theory about George, treating him less like he might break at any moment with each visit. She caught alarmed looks from Percy the first few times he heard her criticising a product he was working on or teasing him about the state of the flat, but as soon as the older Weasley realised that his brother was responding with a smile he relaxed and tentatively began to follow her lead.

All in all, things were going well. She still missed Ron, and she had the occasional pang of regret when nightmares of Bellatrix woke her to an empty bed. Those moments were the loneliest imaginable, but she learned to pull herself together, distract herself with work and call one of her friends or head into the office as soon as it was an acceptable time to do so. Her sleep pattern was taking a hit but she had plenty of potions which could perk her up and she never caught herself seriously thinking about going back to Ron.

Almost two months after the break-up, the encounter she'd been dreading the most caught her by surprise. Finishing an investigative meeting at Gringotts, Hermione dashed across the cobbles of Diagon Alley in the pouring rain, letting herself in to WWW through the side door with the key she'd acquired at some point. Shaking her wet hair, she slammed the door behind her and turned to find herself face to face with a furious looking Molly Weasley.

As the older woman drew breath, Hermione braced herself. She loved Mrs Weasley almost as if she was her own mum, and she knew that Molly cared for her as well, but she was notoriously protective of her children. Ron had said that he'd explain that the decision was mutual, but Hermione knew better than to hope that there'd be no fallout at all – and judging by the look on Molly's face she'd been right to assume the worst.

After what seemed like an eternity, Mrs Weasley spoke. The tone was as angry has Hermione had expected, so it took her a few seconds to register that the words weren't what she'd been dreading at all.

"You! Hermione Granger, where the _hell_ have you been!?"

Hermione widened her eyes in honest confusion. Had Ron not told his mum that they'd split up? Did she think Hermione had just gone missing? Surely not – he'd moved back into the Burrow. Molly pressed on, in full flow now.

"… all we've been through and months – months! Without so much as a word. No idea how you're doing, whether you're eating properly, had me worried sick! What do you have to say for yourself?"

Hermione was beginning to grasp what was going on, and a flicker of hope began to form as she responded. "Sorry! I just… I thought you might not want to see me. Under the circumstances, you know?"

Molly began to soften – that was the thing about Mrs Weasley's rages. Formidable as they were, they rarely lasted. She tutted and shook her head. "What, because you and Ron didn't last? Contrary to what some of you seem to believe, it isn't actually obligatory to marry your high school boyfriend."

Hermione flushed in embarrassment and relief, and found herself wrapped in a warm hug.

"Now," Molly admonished her, warm eyes belying the sternness of her tone. "We'll have no more of this nonsense, you hear? You've saved the lives of so many of my children – Harry counts too – so many times. It'll take a lot more than a failed romance to get me off your back, you hear?"

Hemione nodded, ignoring the tears prickling in her eyes. Mrs Weasley gave her one last squeeze and stepped back.

"I've started a book club," Molly told her. "Every other Sunday. The boys hate it – will do anything to make sure they're out of the house when it's on. Get Ginny to send you the reading list and I'll see you next week."

Hermione just nodded again, not really trusting her voice. Molly gave her a smile and stepped past her to open the door, turning back at the last moment to speak.

"I'll never forget any of the things you've done for Ginny and Harry and my boys," she told her, motioning in the direction of George's flat. "Don't think I've not noticed what you're doing for that one now."

The run in with Mrs Weasley buoyed Hermione's spirits immensely. Spending time at the Burrow again felt like coming home, and Ginny was incredibly happy to have an ally at the book club ("Drink this," she'd said when she answered the door to Hermione at their first meeting, thrusting a large of glass of wine at her. "Quickly, trust me. And whenever anybody mentions babies to me change the topic _at once_."). Nightmares aside, she hardly found herself worrying at all about being single, and while she did still miss Ron it was increasingly platonic. Soon, she hoped, they'd be at point where they could start seeing each other again as friends. She still thought it best not to push him – their first two break-ups had been her idea, after all – but she dropped hints through Harry and Ginny that she'd be happy to see him when he was ready.

She also felt more and more confident around George. It had meant a great deal to her to find out that Molly really thought she was helping him, and tentative criticism had evolved into full-blown teasing relatively quickly.

She still had to gather her courage for the next step though. One autumn evening, George was showing her a new range of hexed sweets for the shop. She made admiring noises for most of them, but when he picked up one which tasted revolting after five seconds of sucking she snorted derisively.

"Great – you've invented something Bertie Botts' been selling for ever," she told him. She watched his face carefully as she continued. "Fred would hate that and you know it."

There was a pregnant pause as the name hung in the air. They never, ever mentioned Fred – occasional references to a 'we' from George when he talked about old ranges were as close as it ever came. She saw him stiffen for a second and wondered whether she'd crossed a line, but after a moment he shrugged and put the sweet down.

"Suppose you're right," he allowed. "He hated to be derivative. Never pulled a prank at school if it looked too much like Peeves' handiwork."

Their afternoon continued as normal after that, but Hermione felt as though some sort of weight had been lifted. From then on, Fred's name found its way into the conversation regularly, until it didn't seem strange at all.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been almost three months since Harry and Ginny's wedding, the last time Hermione had seen Ron, when Mrs Weasley announced that she was throwing a party at the Burrow to mark the start of the festive season. Ginny had joined Hermione and Harry on one of their Sunday trips into Muggle London, and the three of them were wandering absent-mindedly through Covent Garden when the topic came up.

"So," Harry began a little awkwardly, casting a sideways glance at Hermione as they picked their way through the crowds. "Ron, er, said he hoped to see you at the party next week."

At Hermione's startled glance he began to backpedal. "Not that he… not like that! He just, er-"

With a roll of her eyes Ginny stepped in and saved her stammering husband.

"Ron says it'll be weirder if you're not there than if you are," she told her friend. "I agree - and anyway, I'm getting sick and tired of micro-managing my schedule to keep the two of you apart. You'll be there, right?"

Hermione assented, privately relieved. She wasn't too worried about seeing him – she felt so much more in control than she had on their last break – and she wanted to go to the party to keep an eye on George. He was doing much, much better these days. Lee Jordan's visits to the shop continued to be regular, and some of the others had started to pop by too, but he still very rarely went out and she wasn't sure how he felt about crowds. She'd not forgotten that she had found him hiding behind a hedge at Harry and Ginny's wedding, after all.

Later that week she thought she detected a hint of relief in George when she nonchalantly suggested that they head to the party together. She told him she was due to be at Gringotts for work that day and asked whether she could drop her things off at his and get changed at the flat before leaving for the Burrow and he readily agreed, both ignoring the fact that she could Apparate home to get ready in less time than it would take her to cross the street from the bank.

On the night, she stared at herself in the tiny mirror in George's bathroom (really, this was _such_ a boys' flat) and what to wear. She was fighting the impulse to make sure she looked as good as possible for her first run-in with her ex – after all, she really didn't want him to want her back – but she didn't want to turn up looking like a bag lady when everyone else was dressed up, either.

In the end, she opted for a sparkly gold jumper which she hoped said festive but not sexy with tight black jeans and ankle boots. She quickly applied make-up – not too heavy – and eyed her tangled hair for a moment before deciding the natural look would do just fine for the occasion. She stepped out of the bathroom to find George looking her over.

"First run in with Ronniekins?" he asked and Hermione nodded, ignoring the slight flush she could feel rising in her cheeks under his scrutiny. He smiled approvingly. "Struck the balance nicely, Granger. You look good without looking like you're trying to look good for him."

Relieved, Hermione took the arm he held out to her and with a loud crack the two of them appeared outside the Burrow. She kept hold of his arm as he rang the front door bell, enjoying his solid presence as she fought down the butterflies in her stomach. He must have sensed her nerves, because just before the door opened her turned to her and said, in a completely deadpan voice, "If you need somebody to hit him, it'd best be me. I won't get in as much trouble as anybody else – I'm damaged, y'know?"

That surprised a laugh from her, and it was a smiling Hermione who stepped forward to hug Molly in greeting a moment later.

The front room was already uncomfortably full when they entered, a wave of noise and warmth hitting them as they stepped inside. Hermione cast a quick glance at George but he appeared unperturbed by the commotion, so she let go of his arm and gave him a quick grin. He made his way over to a corner where Lee was sitting with Charlie and Hermione turned to scan the rest of the room.

It only took a few moments for her eyes to light on Ron, and she was unsurprised to note that he was looking straight at her. He offered her a nervous half smile, and she took a breath and began to push her way through the crowd towards him. _Best to get this over with_ , she told herself, carefully scanning the alcove he stood in for singing mistletoe. Mrs Weasley had been so thrilled that George was putting out new products again that she'd gone on a spending spree, and there was no corner of the house that you could guarantee was prank-free. The last thing Hermione wanted was to speak to Ron with an obnoxious plant yelling rude rhymes about them the whole time.

Satisfied that the cost was clear she stood in front of him. Feeling suddenly shy, but ridiculous for feeling that way in front of somebody who she knew so well, she offered him an awkward hello. They looked at each other for a beat and she blushed and turned away.

"It's, um, good to see you?" she tried, looking anywhere but at him. Suddenly a wide grin bloomed on his face.

"It's really good to see you, Hermione," he told her. "And please do not take this the wrong way, but I think I'm really, really glad that you're not my girlfriend."

Laughing in relief she finally looked at him properly and then, on impulse, threw her arms up to pull him into a hug. Over his shoulder, she caught a glimpse of George, and for a worried moment she thought she saw a flash of unhappiness mar his freckled face. Then Charlie nudged him and he turned to his brother with a laugh, so Hermione put it to the back of her mind but made a note to check on him shortly.

Pulling back from the hug she looked at Ron. "So, how are you!?" she enquired excitedly.

The two of them spoke for quite a while, the topic flitting from work (Hermione's investigations often lead to field work for Ron and Harry to carry out) to gossip, to Mr Weasley's latest experiments with muggle technology. It was such relief to catch up – Ron wasn't the right boyfriend for her but her was one of her very best friends and she hadn't realised how much she missed just speaking to him. Hermione was feeling almost giddy with happiness when he took her by surprise with a murmured question, his tone suddenly serious.

"You still having the nightmares?"

She looked at him for a moment – of course, only Ron would know to ask that question. He shrugged at her. "You look tired."

She gave him the honest answer. "It comes and goes, but yes. I'm managing though. Getting a lot better at distracting myself when I wake up."

He didn't look convinced but he let the issue drop. They carried on talking about trivial things for a few more minutes, until Hermione began to notice some curious eyes on them. She smiled ruefully.

"I think we'd better mingle, before people start to talk," she told him. "I want to check on George, anyway."

He glanced around and nodded his assent. "Thanks, by the way," he said to her as she began to step away. She looked at him questioningly.

"For everything you've been doing for him," he continued. "I mean – I know that you're not doing it for me, that you'd do it for him regardless, but you're really helping him, y'know? It means a lot to all of us"

Touched by his gratitude, Hermione reached out and squeezed his arm. "Anytime," she told him quietly. "See you around, Ron"

As he wandered into the kitchen in search of Seamus and Dean, Hermione picked her way through the throng to perch on the arm of the sofa that George was now sharing with Bill and Fleur. "How's it going?" she whispered. Again, she thought she detected a slight stiffness in him when he responded.

"Not about to run screaming from the room. Glorious reunion on the cards?" He gestured with his beer bottle towards the door Ron had just disappeared through and she gave an unladylike snort in reply. "Hardly. But I'm cautiously optimistic about our friendship getting back to normal."

Almost imperceptibly, George seemed to relax and an easy grin spread across his face as he turned to look at her properly. "I'm glad," he told her. "Really. Want a drink?"

She couldn't contain the grin that spread across her own face as she nodded. "Champagne please!"

The rest of evening passed by in a whirl of music and laughter. Hermione came across Ron a number of times in conjunction with different people, and each time she thanked her lucky stars for the relative normality of their interaction.

Over the coming weeks, Hermione was extremely glad that she and Ron had formed a truce (and increasingly suspicious that it was the main reason Mrs Weasley had thrown the party in the first place). Social activities cropped up throughout December, while wintry weather saw Wednesday night Quidditch practice cancelled more than once, so she found herself running into him regularly. It was also a relief to be able to accept her invitation to Christmas dinner at the Burrow – she'd been prepared to stay away for Ron's sake, it was his home after all, but she hadn't relished the idea of Christmas with the Lovejoys.

Not having to worry about bumping into Ron meant that she didn't have to turn down as many invitations as she had over the previous months, but that left her with less time to visit George. Thinking of him alone in the flat while she sat in crowded pubs with all of their friends nagged at her, and she decided it was time to try pushing him a little further.

"Christmas shopping!" she announced one Sunday morning, waving a list at him as she breezed into the flat. "I'd bet anything you haven't even started."

He gave her a flat look. "I'll order for delivery."

She kept her tone upbeat. "On the 12th December? You'll never get things in time if your relying on owl service at this time of year!" His expression didn't budge. She sighed and tried a gentler tone. "Look, we don't have to go today. I've barely taken a day off work this year – I could book tomorrow off and we can go in office hours, when the streets are nice and quiet?"

He walked past her to stare down onto the bustling street below. "It's not the crowds Hermione," he told her, voice subdued. "It's the staring, and the whispers"

Hermione was flummoxed for a moment but then comprehension dawned. She was used to it from wandering around with Harry all these years, but it was true that the war had made them all famous. How often it came up depended on how recognisable you were – Luna, for example, got a lot more attention than Neville – but everybody in Harry's inner circle had to deal with it pretty regularly.

George turned to regard her unhappily. "Don't try to tell me it's died down since the war, or that I imagine it. Look where I live!" he gestured to the street below, "I've tested this theory, Hermione. I can't leave the house without it starting. Lanky ginger with one ear? Not hard to figure out which one I am. Soon as I'm three paces out the door I start to hear the word 'twins', start to hear Fred's name muttered. I can't deal with it, not from strangers."

Hermione's shoulders slumped and she was about to admit defeat when an idea occurred to her.

"What if I took you somewhere where nobody had any idea who any of us are?" she asked him. He looked at her curiously and she smiled. "Have you ever heard of Oxford Street?"

An hour later, the two of them were pushing through the masses of harried looking shoppers at Oxford Circus. Hermione kept casting sidelong glances at George at first – he said that crowds weren't a problem if they didn't know who he was, but he'd lived in relative seclusion for over two years. Even if it hadn't been the hustle and bustle that had driven him off the streets in the first place it could still be overwhelming for him now.

She didn't see anything to worry about though. If anything, he looked as cheerful as he had in years, gazing around at the Christmas window displays like a little kid. She smiled and grabbed him by the hand. "Focus, Weasley!" she ordered him, marching him towards the first shop on her hastily rewritten muggle world list. "You have a lot of work to do."

Early that evening, after an exhausting but highly effective march around the shops, the two of them sat by the window of a small old-fashioned pub watching harried-looking people dashing around under the twinkling Christmas lights. Hermione sipped her beer smugly. The day had been a roaring success, even if she did say so herself. She'd braced herself for a wobble when George had removed his hat in an warm department store, warning him that he would probably attract some looks even if people had no idea what the missing ear signified. George had shrugged it off though. "Not worried about the ear," he told her quietly. "It's the people going on about Fred that bother me."

It was a good job that he wasn't perturbed by stares from muggles really, because his utter fascination with everything in an electronic store certainly attracted some attention. Eventually she managed to peel him away from the iPads and steer him towards a jewellery store to look for gifts for Ginny and Molly. "Not having magic makes people really resourceful, doesn't it?" he'd asked her, shaking his head in admiration as they'd walked out, the shop assistant staring after him in disbelief.

Now, as they sat surrounded by bags, George reached over to squeeze her hand.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said in a low voice, gazing into her eyes with an uncharacteristic intensity. "I mean it, for everything."

Blushing, she murmured a polite response and then took great interest in her drink. The moment passed, and they passed the rest of the evening in companionable chatter before slipping into a deserted alleyway to Apparate to their respective homes.

Christmas day at the Burrow was a bittersweet affair. It was lovely to all be together, but impossible to ignore who they were missing around the crowded table and the redness around Molly's eyes went unmentioned but not unnoticed. George tried his best but the strain in his smile was obvious. Hermione's heart ached for all of them as she gamely kept up a string of inane chatter with Ginny and Fleur, doing their best to lighten the mood.

After pudding they all headed into the living room and the atmosphere eased a little. Fred's absence was less obvious when they weren't all sat around the table, and breaking into smaller groups did something to ease the tension. Hermione was enjoying a debate with Percy about the necessity of registration for non-dangerous magical beings when she realised George was absent from the group. Excusing herself, she crept upstairs.

She knew what she was expecting to find, but it still tugged at her heartstrings to see the door to the twins' childhood room ajar. As quietly as she could, she padded along the corridor to peek into the room and saw George sitting silently on what had been Fred's bed, head in his hands.

Hermione froze, paralysed by indecision. She didn't know whether to grant him his privacy or offer him comfort. Just as she'd decided to leave him alone, he raised his head and looked straight at her, and the naked hurt in his eyes spurred her into action. Wordlessly she crossed the room to wrap her arms around him. He clung to her, his arms around his waist and head pressed to her chest as she stood in front of him. She pressed her cheek to the top of his head and raised a hand to stroke his hair, rocking him gently as his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Neither of them were sure how much time had passed when George took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled away from her. She stepped back, asking a silent question with sympathetic eyes. He managed a shaky smile.

"I'm ok, 'Mione. Or I will be, at least. You get back to the party and I'll clean myself up and be down in a min."

She gave his shoulder one last squeeze and then headed back downstairs, slipping into the living room as unobtrusively as possible. Ginny gave her a sidelong glance but said nothing. When George returned to the group a few minutes later nobody said a word, but everybody could see that the pain he had been carrying all day seemed to have eased.

That night just as everyone was preparing to leave Hermione passed George a small wrapped parcel. "Your present," she explained. "Didn't want you to open it in front of everyone in case you'd prefer to keep it quiet." Back in his flat, George smiled to himself as he unwrapped a small box labelled 'George Weasley's guide to Muggle London'. Opening it he found an Oyster card, a cash card pre-loaded with muggle currency, a handful of guidebooks and a pass for the city's main tourist attractions.

Neither George nor Hermione mentioned the scene in his childhood bedroom when they next saw each other, and by the time Harry and Ginny's New Year's Eve party rolled around they'd an unspoken but firm agreement to brush it under the carpet.

Hermione arrived at the flat early to help Ginny magically enlarge the living room and kitchen – there was no way the tiny flat was going to house the partygoers without it. Work done, Ginny cracked open the first of many bottles of champagne and by the time the rest of the guests began to trickle in she was feeling pleasantly tipsy and good about herself.

Ginny had declared the evening an occasion for glamour and Hermione, no longer worried about inspiring any unwanted ardour in Ron agreed readily. She let the younger witch apply potions and poultices, transforming her bushy curls into sleek waves, and held still while Ginny applied kohl to her lash line.

"There," said Ginny, surveying her work with satisfaction. "You're a knockout. Don't ruin it by wearing something awful"

 _I won't_ Hermione thought, looking at herself in the mirror in Harry and Ginny's bedroom. The dress was an uncharacteristic extravagance, bought on a whim on the way home from work. It was relatively simple, dark blue with a subtle shimmer woven through it. The neck was cut high and it had long sleeves, but that just served to balance out the short skirt and low back. She topped the outfit off with shoes that she could only consider for an occasion that involved as little walking as a party in her best friends' flat and the sapphire earrings that George had given her for Christmas. He'd laughed off her protestations about the price after he'd caught her eying them on their shopping trip. "I can handle it," he told her. "Ask Percy to show you the books some time."

Overall, the effect was pretty impressive, even if she did so herself. She had her suspicions confirmed by a similarly tipsy Ginny as soon as she stepped out the bedroom – Hermione was greeted by a loud wolf whistle and a shout of "Merlin – Harry, tell Hermione how hot she is!"

Harry turned slightly pink – he'd been out buying supplies while the girls had been tucking into the booze. "I'd really rather not," he said to Ginny. "You do look great though," he added helpfully to Hermione. She beamed at him and accepted the glass Ginny was waving at her.

"Cheers," she said clinking glasses with both of them. "Here's to a Happy New Year!"

Five hours later the place was packed and her outfit was having a very gratifying effect. Dean Thomas had spent the best part of an hour chasing her around, and Lee Jordan had stopped speaking altogether when he got his first proper look at her. Ron had stopped, eyebrows raised, when he came to say hello and for a moment she wondered whether she'd made a mistake, but then he gave a low whistle and shook his head with a smile. "Well," he said. "You're making me look good tonight. I'll be the envy of the room!"

Grinning, she gave him a playful punch in the arm and carried on talking to a mostly-recovered Lee.

She and Ron had come a really long way, but it still felt a little awkward at midnight when the countdown approached one and she found herself next to him. She was aware of the awkwardness of the situation even through her champagne buzz, so it was a huge relief when at the stroke of twelve a long arm snaked between the two of them, turning her at the same time as bumping Ron in Luna's direction. She told herself that it was that relief that made her heart jump into her throat and her belly flood with heat when she found herself nose to nose with George Weasley.

He was one of the few men who'd appeared totally unaffected by her appearance that night, so it was a total shock when he gave her a wink that could so easily have been from the old George and whispered "You know you look spectacular, right?". Then he pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers in a brief but firm kiss. "Happy New Year, Hermione Granger," he murmured into her stunned face, before he was pulled into a hug by Ginny and Hermione turned to Ron and Luna.

 _Relief, that's all_ , she told herself, trying to ignore the burning sensation she could still feel on her lips minutes later. _Relief, and shock and champagne_. Almost convinced, she joined the rest of the group for Auld Lang Syne and was relieved but a little disappointed when she found herself nowhere near George in the circle.

The party continued into the small hours, and it was almost 6am when Harry came in search of Ginny. His wife was in an undignified heap on the floor surrounded by empty bottles, Hermione stretched out in a marginally more refined position on the couch beside her. It had been a slightly traumatic hour – Ginny had decided that it was time to talk about her wedding night and no amount of Hermione's protests had persuaded her that Hermione hearing about Harry was as bad as Ginny having to hear about Ron. Fleur hadn't helped at all, asking astonishingly frank questions with a typically continental attitude until Bill had appeared to take her away.

Harry regarded his wife with faux exasperation. "Time for bed,2 he told her. Ginny beamed. "Bed." She agreed happily. Harry hauled her off the floor and even through her haze Hermione registered a brief pang of longing – not for Ron, but just for anybody to look at her with the sheer adoration that she could see in Harry's eyes when he looked at his wife. A moment later George appeared and held out a hand to help her up.

"S'fine," she told him as she wobbled to her feet. "Time f'me to go ome."

He shook his head. "Excellent way to splinch yourself, Granger," he told her. "I've got a couch with your name on it."

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he turned to hand Harry a vial of the hangover remedy he'd given to Hermione after her break up with Ron. "For my wastrel sister," he told him. "Happy New Year!"

Then with a crack, he and Hermione appeared in the flat above WWW. She slumped onto the couch immediately and was asleep by the time he returned with a blanket. Brushing the hair off her face, he bent to press a tender kiss to her forehead before placing another vial on the pillow next to her and heading to his room.


	4. Chapter 4

On New Year's Day Hermione woke up feeling like death warmed up, and was so eager to drain the contents of the vial next to her that she forgot about it's awful taste. She scrambled to kitchen in search of something to wash it away and George emerged from his bedroom to find her hunched over the sink, drinking directly from the tap.

"Feeling a little worse for wear, are we?" he enquired mildly. Hermione scowled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Totally Ginny's fault," she retorted. "I don't make a habit of this, you know. All of my hangovers are a result of drinking with a Weasley."

He smiled at her. "Don't know about that," he told her. "I seem to remember a night on the Firewhiskey at the Cauldron with no Weasleys in tow at all."

Hermione's hands flew to her mouth as she realised what he was saying.

"You… you saw me that night?" she asked. He nodded.

"Found you staggering around Diagon Alley," he told her. "Did you really think you got yourself home, in that state?"

Hermione frowned as she pieced together the timeline. "But that was when you didn't go out."

His expression grew serious. "I was never so far gone that I'd have left you to collapse in the street, Hermione."

Growing a little uncomfortable under his gaze, she waved the empty vial under his nose. "Well, thank you very much," she said. "But where the hell was this the next day?"

He shrugged. "Must've slipped my mind."

A few weeks after new year, Hermione was curled up with a book in what she'd privately come to think of her armchair in the flat above WWW when George cleared his throat. She kept her eyes on her book but didn't miss his carefully casual tone as he spoke.

"So," he started. "Did you hear that Percy's moving in with Penelope?"

She met his eyes. "He hasn't already?"

George smiled. "I mean officially, not just sleeping there every night while keeping his stuff here. I might have to get a lodger, not much point me rattling round this place by myself." He suddenly grew extremely interested in a loose thread on the arm of the couch, training his eyes on it as he continued. "Your lease is up soon, isn't it?"

Hermione closed her book and mulled it over. It was true that the lease was coming up for renewal, and without Ron paying towards it the flat was taking up an awfully large proportion of her salary. She'd been thinking about moving somewhere in the wizarding world, and she spent more than half of her evenings here anyway.

Decided, she asked "So what would the rent be?" and George looked up with a relieved grin.

Hermione spent a raucous Valentine's day in the Leaky Cauldron with all of her single friends. Ron was conspicuous in his absence and she mentioned as much to Ginny at lunch the following day.

Her friend adopted the same nonchalant tone George did when he was worried about how she'd react to what he was saying. Hermione didn't buy it for a second.

"Oh," said Ginny, pushing food around on her plate. "I think that since New Year he's, er, been seeing quite a bit of Luna."

Hermione took a moment to let Ginny's words sink in "Good for them," she told her, delighted to find that she meant it. Ginny risked a looked at her and she smiled. "Part of the reason Ron and I didn't work was that he found me too driven – too focused, you know? Maybe Luna is just what he needs."

Convinced, Ginny relaxed and filled her in on the rest of the gossip. Hermione listened good-naturedly and went home that night relieved of a weight she hadn't been aware she was bearing.

When she moved into the flat, Hermione had taken precautions to ensure that her frequent nightmares didn't disturb her new roommate. A muffling spell around her bed meant that George would never hear her cry out in the night, so it was a surprise a few weeks after she moved in to see him pop his head around the door while she read a report in bed at 4am.

"Are you ever going to talk to me about this?" he enquired. She gave him a deliberately blank look and he sighed, coming in to perch on the side of the bed. "The dreams," he told her, gaze frank. She put the report to one side, eyes narrowed.

"Ron told you."

It wasn't a question but he nodded anyway. "He's worried about you," George said "We all are – anybody can see you've not been sleeping. Mum thinks you're just working too hard, but she's definitely noticed. Why didn't you tell me?"

Hermione avoided eye contact. "I suppose I'm embarrassed," she said. "I don't want to be a burden to anybody, especially you. You've been through so much-"

"And I became total zombie until you dragged me back into the world," George finished, His eyes were warm as he addressed her. "Hermione, you went through something terrible. I can't even imagine what it was like, and there's no weakness in admitting that it still effects you."

Hermione flushed under his concerned gaze and he placed a hand on hers as he continued.

"Ron thinks it's getting worse. Is that right?"

Hermione nodded, too tired to lie. "I think it's being alone," she told him. "I'm fine nearly all of the time – really, I am. But being on my own in the dark, it just takes me back there."

George nodded his understanding, then reached out to shuffle her slightly across the bed. He scooted up to sit next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders to pull her to his chest. Some distant part of Hermione's mind told her that she should protest, but her exhaustion won out and with a grateful sigh she closed her eyes, letting the warm comfort of his presence lull her to sleep,

George felt her relax as her breathing became deep and even, and he sat awake for long time, eyes fixed on her face as he idly ran his fingers through his hair. "Don't worry, I've got you," he whispered to her sleeping form, a weight to his words which indicated a solemn promise. After that night, Hermione the muffling spell from her bed, and it became second nature for George to steal into the room if he heard her wake, wordlessly lifting his arm to allow her to place her head on his chest.


	5. Chapter 5

In March, against her better judgement, Hermione went on a blind date with a friend of a colleague. She'd been resisting the set up for months, but the knowledge that Ron was moving on was nagging at her and when she was shown a photo of the exceptionally handsome young man she had to admit that six months was an awfully long time to go without any male attention at all. Pushing her reservations to one side, Hermione agreed to meet him in a small restaurant in Hogsameade.

Somehow she wasn't surprised to find George waiting up when she returned to the flat that night. He put down the book he was reading and looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Well?"

She threw her hands into the air as she collapsed into her armchair with a thump. "Hideous." She admitted. He smiled a little too happily. "Mr tall-dark-and-handsome didn't quite live up to his billing?"

"Oh no," she told him as he headed for the kitchen. "He was absolutely gorgeous, no doubt about it. He was also suspiciously well-groomed and very, very eager to discuss Harry in as much detail as he possibly could all evening. Wanted to know whether he and Ginny were having any problems, and whether I'd noticed anything unusual going on in the boys dorms at Hogwarts."

George laughed and handed her a cup of tea – she never had to remind him that she switched to camomile in the evenings. "Oh dear," he told her, not sounding remotely sorry. "Pity it didn't work out."

She shrugged, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "It was always a bad idea. I got some excellent haircare advice out of it, anyway."

Living with George, Hermione grew better at reading his moods. She got to know when he needed distracting from his thoughts, when he wanted to talk about whatever was on his mind and when he just needed to be left alone. The morning after what she'd come to think of as one of his gone days she asked him a question which had been bothering her for some time.

"George?"

"Hmm?" he looked up from the oven. He always cooked breakfast after he'd had a particularly bad day – some sort of apology, she guessed.

"I was wondering… days like yesterday," she began hesitantly. They'd always just ignored the bad days in the past. "I understand that they're going to happen and everything, but I was wondering – why aren't they on the days you'd expect? Your birthday, Christmas, the anniversary of the battle… you 're upset then, obviously, but they're not your worst days."

He was silent for a while as he finished putting together the bacon sandwiches, and she began to wonder whether he was going to answer her at all. Setting a plate in front of her and sliding into his own seat, however, he spoke.

"Those days aren't just mine," he told her eventually. "Mum needs me then, and so do the others. I have to at least try to hold it together. Yesterday was the anniversary of the day we moved in here. It was a huge step – and it was only mine and Fred's."

Hermione squeezed his hand and the two of them ate in companionable silence as he mind whirled. The next day, she booked the 1st April and the next day off work, a plan beginning to form.

Hermione wasn't certain that she should go to the Burrow on George's birthday. She didn't want to intrude on the family's grief, but Molly insisted. "Don't be daft," the older woman told her, kindly. "Harry and Fleur will be there, and you're as much a part of this family as anyone."

That morning as she watched George get ready, his face a mask of pure misery, Hermione was glad to be going. She didn't want to let him out of her sight when he was like this.

The conversation around the dinner table was strained. Harry kept giving Ginny's hand reassuring squeezes, and Ron alternated between darting worried glances at his mum and his brother. Molly rushed from the room sniffling twice and everyone's eyes landed on the chair Fred would once have occupied regularly. George did what he could, twisting his lips into an approximation of a smile as he opened his presents, but it was a relief to everybody when the meal was over and people started to make excuses and head to their various homes.

As they Apparated in the living room of the flat, Hermione turned to face George, hands on her hips. "So," she said. "What now?" He looked at her in surprise and she tilted her chin to look up into his eyes.

"You've been there for everybody else today," she told him. "It's your birthday – it's _Fred's_ birthday – and the night is young. What do you want to do? Celebrate, smash stuff, drink yourself silly, get an ill-advised tattoo… I've got tomorrow off work and I promise to go along with whatever you suggest, no matter how stupid it might be."

George's mouth worked soundlessly for moment, but then he grabbed her hand. "Thank you," he whispered.

They ended up in a packed nightclub in muggle London, sweaty and fuzzy after too many toasts to Fred to count. Hermione switched to water after a while – "Designated Apparator, about time I took a turn" she'd told him with a smile – but George kept going. The crowd pushed them closer together, and Hermione found herself pressed against George, hips grinding against his.

Smiling, she looked up at him, but the desperate need she saw in his eyes caused he smile to fade. He cupped her face and leant in to crush his mouth to hers and the noise and the crowd seemed to fade away as Hermione felt a hunger rise in her. Opening her mouth to him she felt his tongue and her arms snaked around his neck of their own accord. For a few precious moments she was nothing but heat and need, but a voice at the back of her mind dragged her to her senses and reluctantly she pulled away. She couldn't do this, couldn't take advantage of one of her best friends when he was drunk and at his most vulnerable. He looked at her intensely and she shook her head, sure he wouldn't even remember this in the morning. "Let's get you home," she said.

Back in the flat it was George's turn to pass out in the couch. Hermione sat with his head in her lap, fingers tracing the puckered seam of skin where his ear had once been, and tried her best not to relive that kiss over and over again.


	6. Chapter 6

The morning after George's birthday Hermione was resolutely cheerful. Determined not to let things grow strange between them for the sake of one, admittedly amazing, kiss which he probably had no memory of, she handed him a vial of his hangover cure potion and then treated him to a fry-up in a muggle café that she used to go to with her parents. She chattered slightly nervously throughout the meal, and he pretended not to notice that she was babbling. She didn't see him staring after her when she got up to go to the bathroom, fingers pressed to his lips.

However much she wanted to deny it something had definitely shifted, for her at least. The dreams she woke from gasping weren't always about Bellatrix anymore, and George's presence in her bed did very little to discourage the images haunting her more and more.

Stubbornly, she fought this newfound attraction. _Clearly, you have a bit of a thing for lanky redheads_ she told herself, willing this to be nothing. _It's only to be expected really. You've been on your own for a long time, and he's sleeping in your bloody bed most nights_.

For the most part, the rationalisations worked. She had so many good reasons to ignore the attraction – he was her ex-boyfriends brother, for God's sake! Plus, she knew he needed her. She wasn't going to risk their friendship for the sake of a stupid attraction. She avoided drinking too much around him and made sure that their outings to Muggle London were as unromantic as possible. If he noticed the way she stared when she bumped into him exiting the shower, eyes tracing the dusting of auburn hair on his lean chest, he didn't say anything, and the two of settled back into their usual routine quickly.

George had really come a long way since Hermione moved in. He'd even started to make the occasional foray into the magical world, joining her and the others at the Cauldron sometimes and visiting Lee and some of the old Gryffindor quidditch team on weekends. So it shouldn't have come as such a shock to her in early July when he wandered into the flat and casually announced that Angelica Bell had asked him out.

Hermione froze at the sink, thankful that he couldn't see her stricken expression. Keeping her voice carefully neutral, she resumed washing the dishes – George thought it was mental that she still did them by hand but it was a habit from her life as a muggle. "That's great," she said carefully. "You should take her to that pizza place in Shoreditch – she probably doesn't know much about muggle London."

She thought she heard a trace of irritation in his voice as he replied. "You think I should go?"

"Of course," she answered, placing the last plate in the dish rack and turning to face him. "Fred would want you to." He studied her face for a second and then scowled. "Fine," he said, turning to head into his room. "I will."

"Good," she whispered, trying to ignore the cold sense of dread in the pit of her stomach.

George saw Angelica twice the following week, and Hermione did her best not to take any notice. She threw herself into work and didn't comment two weeks later when he went on a date and didn't reappear until the following afternoon. They saw less and less of each other as the summer passed.

On Harry and Ginny's wedding anniversary Hermione went to their flat to help Harry prepare a dinner for his wife. It was a surprise to find Ron there too, but not an unpleasant one. They were slowly getting used to hanging out as a trio again.

Hermione set the boys to peeling vegetables while she studied the recipe, but gradually became aware of the significant glances they were casting at each other and then at her. Eventually she sighed and turned to face them.

"Spit it out," she ordered shortly. She'd recently recast the muffling spell on her bed and lack of sleep was making her testy.

They looked at each other again and the Harry spoke.

"It's just, er, we, erm, noticed that maybe…" he stammered. Hermione glared at him an Ron stepped in.

"You're clearly mad about George," he blurted, blushing scarlet. "And he's crazy about you and you're both thick for not doing anything about it."

Mortification swept Hermione as his words sank in, and she wondered which of the three of them most want the floor to swallow them up. That sparked a thought, and her eyes narrowed.

"Why isn't Ginny having this conversation with me?" she asked. Harry confirmed her suspicions. "She's helping Percy with George," he told her.

Hermione groaned and buried her face in her hands for a moment, The she straightened up and gestured towards the potatoes lying forgotten on the counter. "Those things aren't going to peel themselves," she told them, picking the recipe back up. "Get to work."

Startled, Ron and Harry complied.

Hermione ended up walking all the way home from Harry's. It took almost two hours but she needed the time to collect her thoughts.

Ron's words ran through her head on a loop. She knew she was attracted to George, obviously, but was it more than that? A million tiny things popped into her head – the way she filed away anecdotes and bits of information automatically, thinking 'George would like that'. The way that he was the first person she wanted to see after a hard day at work, or to celebrate with after a success. They way her bed felt unbearably empty without the warm weight of him at her back.

By the time she reached Diagon Alley she was certain. Ron was right. She was hopelessly in love with George Weasley.

She was less certain of his second assertion. Could George really feel the same way about her? He cared for her, she knew that. He'd depended on her during the hardest time in his life, trusted her when he was holding others at arm's length. And there was always that kiss on his birthday, scorched into her memory. But how much of that was just proximity? She was his best friend, she was always there… He might not see her that way at all.

 _One way to find out_. She squared her shoulders and looked at the joke shop. She was Hermione Granger. She had faced torture and war and evil beyond comprehension. She could face this.

Resolute, she marched up the stairs into the flat. When she opened the door, George was standing opposite her, silhouetted by the window at his back. They looked at each other for a long moment and then he cocked an eyebrow.

"You got an intervention too, I take it?" he asked. Hermione nodded and took a deep breath, putting her handbag down on the couch. He looked at her, his embarrassment obvious – but was that a spark of hope she saw in his eyes.

 _Now or never, Granger_ , she told herself. She moved to stand in front of him, eyes locked on his.

"It's been brought to my attention," she said, blushing furiously. "That I am hopelessly, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with you."

He just stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, and suddenly Hermione realised that she was making an enormous mistake. "I'm so sorry," she told him, tears beginning to prickle at her eyes as she looked away from him. "I shouldn't have said that – you don't have t-"

Suddenly he was right in front of her and before she could register what was happening his lips found hers. His touch was electric and she couldn't control herself, reaching up to twine her hands in his hair, crushing his face to hers.

It took a strength of will she didn't know he had to pull away. "Angelica," she said, breathless. George smiled down at her, eyes glowing.

"Broke that off weeks ago," he told her. Her eyes widened, and he kissed the tip of her nose. "Didn't seem fair, stringing her along when I'm madly in love with somebody else."

She pulled him down for another kiss and suddenly he was lifting her to him. She slid her legs around his waist as he walked them into his bedroom and proceeded to demonstrate just how inadequate her dreams of him had been.

The following Sunday they appeared at the Burrow hand in hand. Hermione felt nervous despite herself, but George squeezed her hand and gave her a wink and a quick kiss. "Don't worry," he whispered, and she grinned up at him.

Mrs Weasley opened the door, took one look at their intertwined fingers and stepped forward to pull them both into a hug. Stepping back she gave them both a light slap to the back of the head. "About bloody time!" she told them.

Ginny stepped out from behind her mum. "Couldn't agree more," she said, fixing her eyes on Hermione. "But don't go thinking that this is a free pass to work your way through all of my brothers. You've got to stick with this one."

 _No problems there_ , Hermione thought to herself, stepping into the house to join the rest of her family. _No problem at all_.


End file.
